


Marrying the Beast

by aspiringwriterofamazingstories



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: AHS, Arranged Marriage, Demonic Imagery, End of the World, F/M, Marriage, Michael Langdon - Freeform, Possible Smut?, Romance, ahs: apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2019-08-20 10:36:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16554170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspiringwriterofamazingstories/pseuds/aspiringwriterofamazingstories
Summary: The end of the world would have been bad enough on its own, but finding out your parents promised you to the devil’s son was even worse. With the world as you knew it gone forever, you must make sense of your new life and adjust to the idea of being betrothed to the son of the devil himself.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently working on another fic for NaNo, so while I hope you enjoy this prologue, I cannot promise I will update as much as I would like to. I have some really big ideas, though, and I'm really excited about where this might go.
> 
> You know what to expect from AHS if you've been in the fandom, but even so, I'd like to warn readers who are triggered by demonic imagery to proceed with caution.

_**Mine, immaculate dream, made breath and skin, I’ve been waiting for you…** _

The world came to an end on your 21st birthday.

“Y/N? Sweetie?” you heard your mother calling from the dining room, “Could you come here? Your father and I would like to talk to you.”

You could always recognize when your mother was distressed. It was always clear in her voice. This alone made you uneasy as it did throughout your life. Even when things were good, your mother would look at you as if something about you made her sad. Disappointed even.

You entered the room to see your mother and father sitting together at the table. Your father rested a hand on top of your mother’s. That alone only added to the tension. As far as you could remember, they never really got along, yet they refused to divorce. They claimed they didn’t want to complicate your life, but you honestly always felt like your life would be less complicated if you didn’t always have to hear them at each other’s throats.

You sat down across from them and waited for one of them to break the silence.  

“Sweetie,” your mother said finally, “Everything changes today.”

Your brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Were they finally going to separate? You would have liked to have been happy about that, but it was a little late. You were an adult now. You were already scarred from their chaos.

“We need to tell you about a promise we made,” your father said, “On the day you were born.”

There was something foreboding in his tone. You tried to swallow, but felt a lump in your throat as you prepared to hear something truly terrible.

* * *

Her husband and her were given time to spend with their newborn baby girl who the doctor said wouldn’t make it through the night. He didn’t know what else he could do but stay by her bedside and give her shoulder some comforting squeezes, trying to keep it together and stay strong for her as she held their baby to her chest and sobbed uncontrollably.

At some point, hours later, the lights flickered, and as they blinked, he could have sworn he saw the silhouette of something. Something sinister. Something menacing. _A beast…_

…but it was gone just as fast as it appeared, and he wanted to convince himself that he was seeing things. His wife scarcely noticed the problem with the lights. She was far too focused on their baby and what little time they had with her.

They were told they would be given space, but once the lights stopped flickering, a woman walked in. She had a short stature, and she wore a nonthreatening expression and her dark hair chopped. And as harmless as she appeared, she added an air to the room that sought to disrupt their grieving. He wanted her out before she could even speak.

“I don’t know who you are, but I want you to leave right now,” he said as firmly as he could with his voice choked from repressed sobbing.

“Oh, now now,” she said lifting her chin slightly to meet his eyes, “I only came to meet our future mistress.”

She seemed to barely pay him any mind as she walked to the other side of his wife’s bed to get a look at his daughter who she now tightened her hold on. “My, she certainly is beautiful,” she said. The way she looked at her was with such familiarity. As if she were a part of the family and had come to visit the new bundle of joy. He didn’t like it.

“I don’t know who you are,” he said, “but if you don’t leave now, I’m going to call for security.”

She looked up at him now with an amused expression. “Really?” she said, “That wouldn’t be wise, seeing as how my Dark Lord sent me to offer you a deal to keep your child alive.”

It was now he determined this woman wasn’t right in the head. He began to move towards the door, but his wife clasped his arm before he could get far. “Wait!” she said.

He looked down at her surprised, but there was so much desperation in her tired tear-filled eyes that he didn’t move. “I want to hear what she has to say…”

* * *

“Is this a joke?” you blurted out as soon as your parents were finished with the story.

“You’re telling me the world is about to end, and that you promised you would hand me over to a Satanic cult so I could marry the anti-Christ?” you asked, “What is wrong with you guys? Is this your idea of some weird birthday prank.”

“Honey, I know this is difficult for you to hear and believe,” your father said, “but we are telling you the truth. Why do you think we always strongly advised you against dating?”

“Even if you didn’t, I lost interest in dating a long time ago,” you shot back, “After living with the two of you always going at each other? Screaming at each other? Going to bed with my door shut and crying under the covers as the two of you fought? I decided long ago I never wanted to date. I was always scared I’d end up miserable just like the two of you.”

“Then we did what we set out to do,” your mother said, “We portrayed ourselves as being in an unhappy marriage so you would be discouraged from entering any sort of romantic relationship. They needed you to remain pure.”

“Remain pure?!” you said with a raising voice, “You needed me to be pure? Is this the 1600s?”

Your mother flinched slightly and you almost felt sorry for yelling. Despite everything, you did love your parents, but whatever they were doing right now was wrong. How could they do this to you? How could they think this was funny? It didn’t even cross your mind that it might not have been a joke at all. It just sounded so bizarre.

“I’m afraid we don’t have a lot of time,” your mother said, “Some people will be coming soon to take you away. We just wanted a chance to tell you how much we love you, and how we hope things will start to make sense as you continue on without us.”

Before you could continue to argue with them, an intrusive loud knock could be heard. Your father’s face dropped, and your mother began to sob frantically, and it was now that you felt a sinking sensation in your stomach. For the first time since the conversation began, you were starting to suspect that maybe this wasn’t a cruel joke. Maybe the world was about to end. Maybe you were going to be taken away.

…to marry the anti-Christ…

You didn’t even want to consider the last part to be true. Maybe you could cope with the world ending and never seeing your parents again, but the very idea that something—someone—so sinister could actually exist was frightening to you.

“I’m sorry, kid,” your father said softly, “I think they’re here.”

He got up from the table and started towards the front door, and as you turned to watch him, your mother got up from her chair and crouched next to you to tightly wrap her arms around you and cry into your shoulder.

It was only when your father returned with the people in suits that the reality set in.

“Y/N?”

One of them looked at you without any signs of sympathy as your mother held you even tighter. “Oh, god, oh god….”

“Ma’am,” one said, “We don’t have time for this. The missiles are already well on their way here.”

“Missiles?” you echoed alarmed.

One of the men seemed to roll their eyes as the other one reached forward to pry your mother’s arms from around you.

“No, no!” your mother cried out, “Please…we need more time.”

“There is no time!” one of the suits snapped before pulling you away by your arm so hard you felt as if they’d remove it from the socket.

You cried out in pain, but it did no good. The suits pulled you away, and you reached out to your parents for help. Your mother was reaching back, but your father was holding her by the waist, looking away with tear stained cheeks. You had never seen him cry before.  

Before you were separated permanently by the front door of your house, you might have heard him whisper softly, “Mommy and Daddy love you, honey,” but you couldn’t be sure.

_**Signed, with a home tattoo/Happy birthday to you was created for you** _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You begin to feel yourself crack after 18 months of isolation at the outpost. Something needs to change, and change is coming…just not the change you expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to make this a slow burn type thing, and I’m so excited about this fic and have so many ideas! I hope you enjoy this first chapter!

_**Oh, it’ll take a little time…** _

_**Might take a little crime…** _

_**To come undone now…** _

__

There were people called “purples” who were entitled to special privileges and “greys” who were giving the position of serving them. That’s how things were in your new home that they called “Outpost 3.” You, however, were not given a label and kept separate from everyone else. You had your own private wing that no one else was permitted to enter. That is, unless they were a grey assigned to bring you food and accommodate you. The food left a lot to be desired. A measly gelatin cube that supposedly contained all the nutrients a person needed to survive.

You were never a shallow or vapid person. You never held yourself in higher regard than anyone else, but the whole thing confused you. Your parents told you that you were to be wed to the anti-Christ. The very idea was terrifying to you, but at the same time, if these people really wanted you to marry such a prominent biblical figure, shouldn’t there have been more to your life than gelatin cubes, Victorian attire, and isolation?

After eighteen months, you were beyond restless. You hadn’t had a real conversation with anyone, and the greys were not even allowed to look you in the eyes. You often wondered if any of the other survivors even knew of your existence. You were never even given a chance to meet any of them. As alone as you often felt living with your parents throughout your life, you felt utterly alone now. Even more than a year later, it still hit you hard every time you were reminded that everyone you had ever known was now gone.

At the very least, being isolated meant no one could catch you crying. Sometimes when you cried, you thought about how your mother had cried on that last day and you felt even worse, especially when you thought of how you had yelled at her. Sometimes you thought of what you thought you heard your father say:

_“Mommy and Daddy love you, honey.”_

You hadn’t called either of them “Mommy” or “Daddy” in years, but in that moment, you felt like a scared child. Even with all the time that passed, you felt helpless. You didn’t have the time to really adjust to being an adult before the world literally went to Hell.

Ever so often, Miss Venable paid you a visit. She was a woman with a slender build, pale skin, a limp with a cane, and haunting sharp features. Her position at the outpost was unclear to you, but she seemed quite comfortable enforcing harsh rules and controlling portions of food. Above all else, she seemed to take great joy in adding to your misery.

One day, when you were feeling bold and desperate, you demanded answers. Why were you chosen? Why wasn’t there more food? Why couldn’t you talk to the others? Above all else, where was this anti-Christ? You really would have liked to have a word with him, since he seemed to be the source of all of this.

You remembered feeling the heat in your chest and your hands forming into fists at your sides as you questioned her. She took all of your questioning wearing a sour line across her lips before slapping you so hard across the face, you lost your footing from the shock of the furious sting. You laid there on the floor crying as a result and when you finally looked up, you saw she was still standing there, but now she was smiling delightfully. At one point, she kneeled to your level, balancing steadily on her crutch.

“I don’t give a fuck who they told you you are,” she said in an eerily soothing voice, “For all I know, you are completely delusional. Betrothed to the anti-Christ? That sounds absolutely deranged to me.” She then stood looking down at you with narrowed eyes. “You are not to question anything or break any of my rules. If I even suspect you thinking of doing such, I will carry out a punishment for you fit for a grey.”

You decided on that day that you hated her, and it was such a strong hatred that you desired for there to be a day in which she got what she deserved and you could watch her suffer. The feeling scared you. You had never felt that strongly towards anyone you didn’t like.

This place. Miss Venable. The experience was all changing you, and you feared the little girl “Mommy and Daddy” loved would soon be gone forever if something didn’t change.

Eventually, change did come, but no change that could help keep that little girl alive.

* * *

“You’re holding back from me, Miss Venable,” he said, “and it would be wise of you to avoid being dishonest with me.”

The young man wore an eerily warm smirk on his beautifully sculpted face framed by long blonde hair. For a time, Miss Venable and Miss Meade had been calling the shots and enforcing rules with much pleasure. It was the kind of power she had been promised, and she enjoyed every minute of it. Perhaps they took it a little too far at times, but what was one life? What was a little lie told here and there to keep the occupants miserable and themselves entertained?

“I can assure you,” Miss Venable said, “You have interviewed all of the occupants. There is no one else here.”

The young man by the name of Michael kept his smile, but now held a hint of annoyance in his blue eyes. She was lying through her teeth, and he knew it. He knew far more than she would have preferred. She had grown comfortable in her position, and she hated being knocked down a peg.

“The young woman in the private wing,” he said, “Take me to her.”

At this point, Miss Venable knew there was no point in continuing to lie to him. He had already taken a strong dislike towards her, it seemed, and as much as she hated the way control seemed to slip from her fingertips more and more the longer he was there, getting him to dislike her even more would do her no favors.

* * *

Sometimes when you dreamed, you saw a beautiful woman. Never in your life had you ever seen her, but when she spoke, she sounded like your mother. Around her head was a heavenly glow, and she wore beautiful white robes. You were always immediately made comfortable by her presence when she appeared, but every time you saw her, she leaned over from where she seemed to be floating and cupped the side of your face to say the same thing: “I’m sorry, baby. We’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Tears would then form in her eyes and slip down her cheeks as her lips trembled. You’d then be jolted awake, and then you would soon find yourself crying.

Today was different, however. You did cry as you always did, but you didn’t remain alone for long. Miss Venable opened the door to your room without knocking to intrude on your session of self-pity.

“What do you want?” you asked glaring through your tears.

It was then you noticed the expression on her face. It wasn’t smug or calculating. It almost looked like an expression of… _fear?_

She said nothing and stepped aside to make room for another individual to enter the room, and he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. He looked exactly what you imagined an angel might look like, and as soon as he entered the room, you felt no need to cry anymore.

Your eyes were locked with one another’s, and you felt a strange sensation of warmth and fear. You didn’t need to exchange words to understand who the other was.  

_You knew._

The beautiful man that stood before you was no angel.

He was the anti-Christ.

He was the man you were promised to.

The man you were soon to wed.

 

_**We’ll try to stay blind…** _

_**To the hope and fear outside…** _

_**Hey child, stay wilder than the wind…** _

_**And blow me in to cry…** _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> : You are face to face with the man you’ve been promised to, but unfortunately, you’re not ready to dive into his arms and devote yourself to your future husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been on a pretty good roll with this fic, but I’m not quite sure when the next part will be up. I have a pile of work I need to get to, but hopefully, I’ll be able to get back to writing soon. I’m so inspired and have so many ideas!

“This is a mistake,” was all you could manage to say as he approached you and kneeled in front of you to meet you at your level, “An absolute mistake!”

You were not quite sure where the words came from, but what you were certain of was that you were terrified. Terrified far more of the pull you felt towards him than the fact that he was evil incarnate.

For eighteen months, you feared this day. You sat alone pondering ways you could get out of this betrothal, but could think of nothing. You considered ways you could escape, but you knew that too was impossible. You were left to wonder what kind of hideous beast you would be faced with on the day he came for you.

Instead, you were face to face with this impossibly handsome man. A real wolf in sheep’s clothing.

His brows furrowed, but his expression remained soft. “No,” he said gently. His voice was the least bit sinister than you could have ever imagined. It was warm. Soft. Like velvet. He cupped the side of your face much like the woman in your dreams did. His touch—this simple touch—relaxed you completely. Like a natural reflex, you leaned into his hand and closed your eyes.

Nothing about this should have felt so right.

“There is nothing about you that is a mistake,” he said, “You were made for me. We were made for each other. You’re going to be very well taken care of from here on out.”

It was these words of commitment that jolted you back into reality. You immediately yanked away from his touch and stood to move swiftly somewhere between where Miss Venable stood by the doorway and where the young man rose to his feet. He almost looked hurt, and you felt your heart sinking. You had to remind yourself that he was still the son of Satan.

“This can’t be happening,” you said sounding more panicked than you would have liked, “I’m a good person! I’ve always been a good person! I’ve never done anything wrong. Never hurt anyone. Never broke any laws. You have the wrong girl!”

The young man now smirked. It was a simple curl of the lips, but regardless, you swooned inside.

“Do you honestly believe that whether or not you are a good person makes any difference?” he asked. His lovely blue eyes scanned your form before they met yours once more. An act that gave you the shivers. “There’s no hiding your attraction for me,” he said now wearing a bit of smugness in that smirk, “There’s no use in denying it. I feel it too. It’s inescapable. It’s been written. It’s how it’s meant to be.”

He took a step towards you, but you shied away once again. “I refuse to believe that.”

His smile faded and he once again looked hurt. Of everything you imagined about the anti-Christ, you didn’t expect him to be hurt by rejection. You watched, however, as his expression turned from hurt to one that seemed of anger. He raised his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, you were pulled towards him with an invisible force. You gasped, and you heard the sound of shock come from Miss Venable behind you as well.

You found yourself suddenly separated only by inches from him and looking up at him doing your best to glare through your fear. Somehow, though, you gathered up the courage to say the first thing that came to mind that you figured would get him to let you go.

“You won’t hurt me,” you said so softly it was almost a whisper, “You can’t marry me if I’m dead.”

It had the desired effect. His expression softened once again and he lowered his hand, releasing you instantly.  

“You think I’d ever want to hurt you?” he asked, “I love you.”

Your knees grew weak, but you told yourself it was a result of having been released by a strong magical force rather than his words.

He then cradled your face in his hands once again, but this time, you didn’t try to move away. Being touched by him almost felt like having a strange yet pleasant electrical current flow through your body. It scared you, but there was no denying you quite liked it.

“Perhaps it is not fair to rush you. I don’t mind practicing patience, since our union is inevitable, but deep down inside, Y/N, you know I’m telling you the truth.”

Your lips parted to ask him the obvious question, but he smirked and placed a finger gently on your bottom lip before the query could find its way out.

“I do know your name,” he said, “but you know mine too. Look inside yourself and find it. It’s there.”

Maybe it was the effect of his touch or his soothing voice, but you closed your now heavy eyelids and focused on what he said.

It only took a few moments, and there it was. Inside of you. A part of you. Just like he said it would be. It could have been possible for him to have learned your name from the cooperative, but there was no explanation as to why you could reach inside yourself to know his. He spoke the truth, and there was no escaping or getting around it.

“Go on,” he said, _“Say it.”_

You swallowed hard, but you couldn’t hold the answer inside of you. The answer was alive, and it craved freedom. It would eat you alive if you didn’t release it right then and there.

“Michael Langdon.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may not be too keen on marrying the anti-Christ, but you recognize kindness when you see it as well as when there is a definite power shift taking place. But will Miss Venable take it sitting down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I’m on such a roll. This is definitely one of the most fun fics I’ve written. I absolutely love writing this romance for Michael. I hope you all are enjoying reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it!

* * *

 

Michel seemed comfortable giving you some space as you processed everything.

Magic was real. Evil was real. The devil was real. And you were not only going to be marrying his son, but now you found out that this fate for you was sealed probably before you were even born.

When you were younger, you learned about the idea of soulmates: the belief that everyone’s soul was one half of a whole and how the desire to find that “special someone” was really their soul’s need to become whole again. As a kid, you thought it was romantic, but your love of all things romance was long ago killed by your parents always fighting in your presence. You had long ago lost faith that love was even real.

Now, not only did you know for a fact that love was real, but you learned this lesson from the son of the devil himself. Could it really have been possible that Michael held the other half of your soul?

To your relief and for the time being, Miss Venable was mostly behaving herself around you. She certainly wasn’t showing any sort of kindness. It was probably impossible for that woman to show any sort of warmth. She snuck in some judgmental glances at you here and there, but you could tolerate that. Anything was better than the cruelty and abuse she had thrown you for more than a year. You figured your encounter with Michael several days earlier must have shaken her. At least you could be thankful for that.

After a few more days, greys started coming to you with things you took for granted before the world ended: Apples, chocolate, and books. All these came with notes attached.

_“Gelatin cubes are unfit for you. Please accept these apples as a token of my affection.”_

_“I hope this chocolate brings you comfort.”_

_“I believe these are a few of your favorite books.”_

Although you weren’t quite comfortable with the idea of marrying him just yet, you felt warm and giddy with each gift you received from him. It had been such a long time since you felt genuinely cared for by someone. And never in your life had apples tasted so sweet, chocolate so delightful and rich, and the books you had once used as a means to temporarily escape the cruelties of your old life were now a thin thread connecting you to the girl you once were.

One day, you decided you would return Michael’s kindness by writing him a little thank you note. You gave it to the grey who brought you another gift of a basket of apples from Michael. She, at first, seemed nervous to take anything from you. She flinched as you held out the folded piece of paper to her as she did her best not to look at you.

“It’s okay,” you said, “I’m not afraid of Miss Venable and neither should you be.”

You watched as she struggled to lift her head and meet your eyes. For a moment or two, she studied your face, as if looking for some sort of sign of a trap, but eventually, she offered you a very cautious hint of a smile before taking the note. You returned her smile as you took the basket from her. Glancing down at the glossy red apples, an idea came to mind that made you let out a small giggle. It was such a strange feeling. You couldn't recall the last time it was you felt remotely happy or the last time you laughed.

With little thought, you took one into your hands and looked it over before handing it to the young woman. Again, she flinched, but you assured her it was okay. However, the moment her fingertips and apple made contact with one another, the sound of a woman clearing her throat rudely interrupted the nice moment followed by the sound of Miss Venable’s crutch harshly striking the floor and echoing off the walls. You both turned to see her standing not far from the two of you wearing a look of displeasure on her face.

“That is forbidden!”

You turned and stood in front of the young woman. Your blood was boiling. You had long waited for the day you felt bold enough to confront her again, and this time, you knew that you had Michael on your side should she act out of line.

“And just who are you, Miss Venable?” you asked, “You and I both know you do not have the power to abuse me like you have been doing since I arrived here. Michael outranks you, and I am his fiancé.”

“Fiancé,” she echoed with a chuckle under her breath, “You’re not even sure you want to marry him.”

“But he wants to marry _me_ ,” you shot back, “and the apple she’s holding in her hands is a gift from him to me, and since it is a gift for me, I can do with it what I please. What do you think might happen to you if Michael finds out you’re trying to control what I do with my gifts?”

You then turned slightly to take the other girl by her free hand.

“Go on,” you said to her, “Have a bite. It’s really good.”

You gave her a reassuring smile as she looked from you to Miss Venable and back to you again.

“It’s okay,” you said squeezing her hand, “She can’t hurt you.”

After a few moments of uncertainty, the girl finally took a bite of the apple, and you could see it in her face that she was glad she did. The poor thing was made to eat less than you for all that time before Michael showed up, and just by the way her eyes closed and her lips curled as she chewed, it was clear she needed that apple more than you did.

Feeling quite proud of yourself in that moment, you couldn't help but look up at Miss Venable and smile as she watched with both disgust and horror. It was written all over her face that this simple act of kindness struck her to her core. She was now threatened by you, and it felt oh so good!

“You can leave us now, Miss Venable.”

* * *

 

Miss Venable did as asked and excused herself. What else could she do? She had seen the way Michael had pulled the girl toward him with a flick of his wrist just days ago, and she had witnessed the interaction between the two that indicated she wasn't quite a normal human being. There was a possibility maybe she could even bring harm to anyone who displeased her and didn't know it until now.

One thing that was certain was she needed to rid herself of both of them, and her best chance was to focus her attention on her first. Michael was powerful, there was no doubt about that, and it was clear that of the two of them, Y/N was the weakest. There was also no denying the difference in his behavior towards the other occupants and her. With everyone else, he was cold and even patronizing, but with her, he was a completely different man, and since speaking with her, deliveries of apples and chocolates were coming in regularly. Food that was once commonplace, but now delicacies.

She was his weakness, and her best shot at hitting him in any way was exploiting that, and as she made her way out of the private wing, her lips curled. She knew the perfect way to do it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Venable comes to your room with a proposition, but you can’t help but think trusting her comes with a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t want to talk about the finale. I just want to pretend this fic is canon, haha. Hopefully, this new chapter can help you all cope too. Also, don’t be afraid to recommend your fics to me as well! I’d love to read what my fellow fic writers have made!
> 
> Same triggers apply: Proceed with caution if talk about the anti-Christ triggers you.

You were quite surprised one morning when you awoke to a knock on the bedroom door and answered it to see a warmly smiling Miss Venable. You could tell it took a great effort for her to be nice. You could see the strain on her face from smiling the way she was.

“Miss Venable?”

She looked already exhausted from trying to appear non-threatening, but she managed to speak.

“I would like to propose a truce,” she said coolly, “I recognize my behavior towards you has been unsavory.”

There was so much you wanted to say in response to that. Instead, you held your shoulders back slightly and raised your chin defiantly. “I’m listening.”

She continued.

“With all the changes that have occurred since the arrival of Mr. Langdon, it is now clear what my position is and where I stand. I do not expect you and I to develop any sort of friendship. With what I’ve put you through, that would be quite bold of me to ask. I do not, however, believe it is too much for us to develop and understanding and tolerance for one another.”

You were, of course, skeptical. She had never shown any sort of indication that she was interested in being civil until now. Even if she wasn’t trying to get a friendship out of you—which would never happen anyway—you were still quite hesitant to hold her at even an arm’s length. The sting of her slap wasn’t exactly something you were yet willing to forgive or forget.

It was obvious to you that she had come out of fear. There was no reason for her to come to you unless she had been scared of what Michael could possibly do if she continued to treat her in the way she had been, and she was scared that you had asserted whatever little power you had when you broke her rules without shame by giving the young woman the apple. You knew very well she wasn’t scared of you personally, but being betrothed to the anti-Christ had its benefits.

Considering the situation, however, you decided it might be best to accept her offer, but keep a watchful eye on her. Being even remotely friendly with her, you imagined, was going to be like petting a venomous snake. You weren’t going to put it past her that she had a trick up her sleeve.

“Alright,” you said after thinking it over, “From here on out, I will grant you as much respect as you grant me. I will not hesitate to return any nastiness you give me, and if you attempt to overstep your boundaries again, Michael will hear about it.”

You wanted to cringe at the way that sounded, as if you couldn’t fight your own battles. But it was the only thing you had on her at the moment.

“Very well,” Miss Venable replied.  

Something about her smile changed, though, and you got the sense that she was reading you well at that moment. As if she knew you preferred not to get Michael involved but knew you didn’t have much of a choice. “Now that we have an understanding, I’d like to ask if you are open to sharing the gifts Mr. Langdon has given you,” she continued, “The apples, specifically.”

She lifted her chin slightly and nodded at something over your shoulder. You followed her glance and saw a fresh batch of apples in a basket on the nightstand next to your bed. You suddenly felt something in you drop. Something about handling the gift over to Miss Venable of all people made you uneasy. You looked back at her, and you must have worn the anxiety on your face, for she picked up on your concern.

“I assure you, I did not come to your chamber to beg for apples. Rather, I came to ask that you extend your kindness towards the greys to the purples. Things have been tough on them more so than you if you could believe it, and I thought it would be nice to give them something nice. A Halloween masquerade to be exact, and they would probably appreciate a game of bobbing for apples.”

It sounded innocent enough, but again, this was Miss Venable. However, you couldn’t pass up the chance to share with the others in the outpost.  

“On one condition,” you said, “I’d like to attend and meet the others.”

The woman’s lips curled. “But of course,” she said, “I would not have had the audacity to ask this of you if I did not intend to invite you as well.”

* * *

More than anything, you were nervous about meeting the purples. For the first time in such a long time, you were going to be able to talk to other people besides the greys who feared even making eye contact with you, and you were afraid you were going to somehow mess up. What would they even think of you? You were separated from them in your own private wing this whole time. What if they resented you? What if they believed you had something they didn't? What if they made their minds up about you before you could even speak?

You thought about sending a note requesting Michael’s presence at the party, but decided against it. You wanted them to see you as an equal. How could they do that if you had the very man they had been so intimidated by at your side. You were midway done with writing a note when you crumpled it up and tossed it, though deep down, you really wanted him to be there with you.

_Deep down, you had wanted to be near him since the day you met._

But maybe it was best the others didn’t know you were to be marrying him, at least for now.

* * *

In the days since he had met Y/N, he had practiced patience. There was nothing more Michael wanted to do but to be near her. His soulmate. His other half.

He had seen her face in his dreams, years before the day had come, even before it was revealed to him that Satan was his father, and when he was informed by Miriam that her dark lord had a special someone out there waiting for him, he knew it had to be her. Yet, none of that actually prepared him for what he felt when he finally met her. It was crushing. It almost hurt. Because he knew, from that day forward, he wouldn’t be able to function as he normally did without her. And when he touched her, and she had leaned into his touch, he felt a pleasant sort of buzz within him. She felt it too. He knew this. It was the feeling of their souls connecting after waiting and craving so long to be found by one another.

But she needed time. Miriam said she would.

 _“But what if she doesn’t want to be with me?”_ he had asked her all those years ago. He couldn’t help but recall how all those before Miriam who he had sought affection from had rejected him in the cruelest of ways.

 _“Oh, she will,”_ Miriam said smiling brightly, _“Even if it doesn’t seem so at first, she will.  Sometimes all it takes is for something significant to happen for someone to realize the best thing to do is to simply embrace their truth.”_

Of everyone who had entered his life, Miriam had been the first to love him as a mother would her own child, so he trusted her and trusted her words, even to this day. Y/N would come around. Until then, he decided he would make her more comfortable, giving her gifts he knew she’d appreciate.

It was when he received her note delivered by a grey that he knew he was getting somewhere with her. Maybe she wasn’t closer to embracing her truth, as Miriam said, but the small token of appreciation was enough for the time being.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While hoping you can end the night making a friend or two, you are given another gift from Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little lengthier than the others, but I hope you enjoy it!

With the limited amount of resources available, it could not have been much of a party, but even with this in mind, you were still excited.

Finally! You were going to get to meet the others and maybe—just maybe—make a friend or two before the night was over. The thought made you remember that everyone you had ever called a friend was gone. It was always enough to make you cry in the past, but now, you were able to swallow that lump in your throat. It wasn’t that you were no longer sad, but rather, you knew that tonight was the first night in a long time you were going to feel normal—as normal as was possible anyway.

At some point later in the day, you began to worry about what you should wear to the party. You knew it was quite silly, seeing as how everyone was likely to be dressed similarly, and you were convinced no one else was worried over this, but as much as you wanted to appear as an equal to them, you also wanted to leave a good impression on the others.  

You wanted so much for them to like you!

As you searched your closet of Victorian-style attire, you heard a knock at the door. You took a break from your search to answer it to see the same grey who you had given the apple to days earlier. She had a look of cautious excitement, as if she was happy to see you but still unsure of whether or not she should trust you. Who could blame her?

Carefully draped over her arms was a brown garment bag. “I have a delivery from Mr. Langdon, Ma’am.”

Your brows furrowed in slight confusion. Did he know you were attending the party tonight? Was he offended that you didn’t ask him to go with you?

“Would you like to come in?” you asked her.

She looked surprised and searched your face as she had the other day the first time you offered her kindness, but her face softened after a few moments and she nodded. She took a couple of steps in before extending her arms to give you the gift. You took it carefully and gently laid it on the bed.

“What is your name anyway?” you asked, “I don’t want to keep calling you ‘the grey.’”

You laughed a little as you watched her eyebrows quiver with uncertainty before she answered.

“Alexandria.”

Her voice was soft and scared. You realized as badly as you were treated, she probably got it a whole lot worse. It would probably take her a while to come completely out of her shell. “It’s nice to meet you,” you said, “I want you to call me by my name too from now on. Y/N. You can tell the others that too.”

She nodded again before you both turned your attention to the bag lying on the bed.

“Shall we see?” you asked.

Again, she nodded, but this time, there was a hint of a toothy smile. You could tell she was quite curious as to what she had delivered to you.

You unzipped the bag slowly to reveal the most beautiful and sophisticated dress you would ever touch, let alone wear. Alexandria let out a sigh as if she had been holding her breath the entire time you undid the zipper.

Holding it up to admire it, you saw that it was an off the shoulder dress made mostly of a sheer black material aside from what made up the bust down to where you guessed your mid thighs would be when wearing it. That part was made up of a scattered pattern of embroidered red roses. All you had ever hoped for was a dress that stood out slightly from the rest, but you never expected this.

When you were younger, you had avoided social gatherings like homecoming, winter formal, and the prom. There was just no escaping the romantic aspect of it, and that was something you always tried to steer clear of. However, deep down you had always wished you allowed yourself to get all dolled up and have fun. Since graduating from high school, you had regretted not going to at least one. Now, here you were in a post-apocalyptic world about to wear the most perfect dress for the closest thing you’d ever come to a second chance at experiencing those things. It was almost too bizarre to be real.

“It's a beautiful dress,” Alexandria said, “You're going to look amazing.”

You held it up against yourself and turned to a nearby mirror hanging on the wall. Michael was much too generous. How were you ever going to show him your gratitude?

_Invite him to be your plus one, dummy._

You shook the thought out of your head. Maybe you’d at least stop by. If anything, to allow him to see you in the dress. You’d have to ask Alexandria to show you the way, of course, because unfortunately, you had been allowing yourself to continue being a little freaked out over who he was despite how kind he was being to you. It was almost embarrassing.  

For now, however, you turned your attention to Alexandria.

“Would you like to come to the masquerade with me?”

Her eyes widened and her lips parted a minute before closing again, as if she were struggling to find the right way to answer that question. You laughed a little at her expression. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop worrying about Miss Venable?” you asked, “You’ll be with me. You won’t get in trouble.”

“You’re very kind, Ma’am...I mean...” she cleared her throat, “Y/N.”

You took a moment to size her up. She didn’t look as if her measurements would be much different than yours. “Well, you can’t wear that,” you said, “It’s a party. How about you wear one of my dresses?”

She looked as if she were about to protest again, but stopped herself. You smiled and laid the dress gently down on the bed again, careful not to wrinkle it. “Come on,” you said taking her by the hand and leading her into the closet, “Let’s find something for you.”

* * *

 

Dolling Alexandria up was fun, and it was even more fun to see the expression on her face as someone treated her with kindness. You were really more than happy to treat her nicely. This was really the most fun you had had in a very long time, and she was really the first person you had carried out a real conversation with besides Miss Venable and Michael.

What brought you the most joy was when Alexandria looked at herself in the mirror. It was like she was seeing herself for the first time, and it was awfully nice for you to see her like this rather than in the degrading bland outfit Miss Venable had all the greys wear.

“I don’t look like myself!” Alexandria said turning this way and that to examine her new look in the mirror.

“Of course you do!” you said, “Who says this isn’t you?”

She turned and smiled at you for only a moment before her eyes widened with worry. “You spent so much time on getting me ready that you haven’t even dressed yourself!”

You laughed. “Don’t worry about that,” you said, “I can take care of myself.”

You cleaned yourself up, and put on the dress and styled your hair in something simple yet elegant, but when you looked in the mirror, you saw yourself wearing an expression similar to the one you saw on Alexandria.

“Wow, Y/N!” Alexandria said in a tone of pure wonder, “You look so beautiful!”

You could only continue to stare at your reflection because you couldn’t believe the young woman staring back was actually you. Where was Y/N? Where was the scared woman who grew up a normal life with bickering parents who refused to believe in love? Who had a hard time believing she could love or be loved in return? Where was that woman fearful of what her life would become upon meeting the man they called the anti-Christ who she would marry?

She wasn’t there.

Standing in her place was a strong, confident, woman who was beautiful. She looked so powerful. She knew her worth.  

It just didn’t feel like she could actually be you.

“Y/N?” she asked, “Are you alright?”

You had been so lost in your thoughts that Alexandria’s soft voice startled you a little.

“Yes...I’m just a bit taken aback by what I see.”

You let out an awkward laugh, and Alexandria laughed with you. “You shouldn’t be late to the party,” she said, “Are you ready to go?”

You nodded. “I am, but I really think I should at least stop by Michael’s room to thank him personally for his gift,” you said, “Can you show me the way?”

She gave you the kind of knowing smile that only a friend would give when they knew there was more to your feelings than you were letting on, and you could feel the warmth of blood rushing to your face.

“Of course,” she said as she opened the door to your room before nodding in the direction to walk, “Right this way.”

* * *

 

You hadn’t expected the idea of leaving your private wing to be so intimidating, yet when you reached the door that separated you from the rest of the outpost’s residents, you found your palms were sweaty and your heart was racing. Alexandria had only been twisting the knob before you asked her to give you a moment.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I just need a moment.”

She nodded and stood with her hands folded together in front of her. After a few deep breaths, you were able to calm yourself enough to take the next step. “Let’s go,” you said.

Alexandria opened the door, but also offered you her hand. She wore a look of genuine concern, and you were happy she was sweet enough not to rush you.

You had expected the rest of the outpost to look different than what you had seen for eighteen months, but to your disappointment, it was much the same: dimly lit halls and corridors reminiscent of an earlier time. You did, however, hear the lyrics of the song Time in a Bottle during your journey to Michael’s room:

 _If I could save time in a bottle_  
The first thing that I'd like to do   
Is to save every day   
'Til eternity passes away   
Just to spend them with you

Maybe it wouldn’t be your first pick for a song, but seeing as how you couldn’t remember what the last song was that you had listened to, you took it. You didn’t, however, envy the others. You knew that you had been given some degree of special treatment—however little that was—so if they got to listen to music, you were grateful they got that.

“We’re almost there,” Alexandria said at one point just as you were about to turn a corner, but to the shock of both of you, you nearly ran into both Miss Venable and Miss Meade, another woman responsible for some of the misery you endured for more than a year.

Miss Meade wore a neutral expression, but still one that was quite intimidating. She was probably itching to carry out some punishment against the two of you, and you wondered if mentioning Michael would even sway her, but it was the look on Miss Venable’s face that made the tiny hairs on your arms stand on edge. You squeezed Alexandria’s hand protectively as the woman looked the two of you over, holding your basket of apples, and wearing the most intimidating smile you’d ever seen in your life.

She looked at you from your head to your toes and back up to your head. You saw judgement in her eyes. You weren’t wearing regular attire, and you could sense that she strongly disapproved. Your arms and legs were visible through the sheer material, and you felt exposed. Of course, you weren’t as worried for yourself as much as you were for Alexandria. Her smile faded when her eyes passed from you to her, and her expression changed to one of absolute disgust.  

“And what gave you the impression that you could play dress up?” Miss Venable asked.

You turned to see Alexandria looking down at her feet in shame, which infuriated you.

“I did,” you said, “Remember what we talked about, Miss Venable? I expect you to extend that courtesy to people I’m friendly with.”

Miss Venable met your gaze and her lips curled once more. “Of course,” she said in a voice that seemed too pleasant, “I apologize.”

“Apologize to Alexandria, please.”

Her smile became even more forced as she looked at your friend once more. “I apologize.. _.Alexandria._ ”

The way she said her name almost seemed like she put great effort into it. She then looked back at you. “I would like to point out, however, that you will be late to the party with the way you are going. Is Alexandria trying to get you lost?”

“Actually,” you said, “She was showing me the way to Michael’s room. I wanted to thank him for this dress I am wearing.”

“Don’t you worry about Michael,” Miss Meade said. Her voice carried a bit of authority to it, and as much as you had been growing accustomed to your place in all of this, you were afraid to talk back. “He’s been informed of the party tonight. How do you think he knew to send you that gift you’re wearing?”

It made sense, however, something was off. It seemed as if they didn’t want you to see Michael. Why was that?  

“Shall we show you the way to the party then?” Miss Venable asked, “You can bring your little gre—I mean, _Alexandria_ with you.”

Something told you to trust your gut, but in that moment, you felt trapped. As intimidating and hateful as Miss Venable had been to you, Miss Meade scared you even more so than she ever had. If she wanted to hurt you right then and there, there would be no one to stop her.  

You swallowed and nodded and gave Alexandria’s hand another squeeze before following the two women down the halls.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get to meet the other inhabitants of the outpost, but Miss Venable seems set on ruining their first impression of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm going to be very careful about the triggers because it could spoil the chapter before you read it...but if you remember the episode with the Halloween party...it's ALMOST like that.  
> Please, please, PLEASE proceed with caution!

When you reached the party, you wished even more Alexandria and you hadn’t run into Miss Venable and Miss Meade. You all arrived just as a blonde woman named Coco made a grand entrance and was making her way down the stairs like a queen. The others at the bottom gave her a humble applause. You watched as the scene unfolded from the top of the stairs on the other side of the room.

You had a mere moment to ponder over who this woman was before you were startled by the sound of Miss Venable’s crutch being harshly tapped against the floor and echoing throughout the room. Everyone looked up, and all eyes fell on you. The one by the name of Coco glared. Clearly, you stole her thunder, but that was never your intention.

“When you are all finished playing pretend with Coco, I’d like to take a moment to introduce you to Y/N.”

The blood inside of you began to heat with embarrassment.

“It is because of her that you will all enjoy a special treat tonight,” she went on, “The apples you will receive later tonight were given to her as a gift from her fiancé, Mr. Langdon.”

She paused as if for dramatic effect, allowing the others to look at one another before turning their attention back to you. Your heart began to race. “She has been so kind as to share that gift with you, so please, extend your warmth and welcome to her.”

You wanted so much to strangle Miss Venable for ruining your first impression, but unless you wanted to confirm what these people must have already been thinking about you, you knew it wasn’t a good idea to show aggression. Plus, with Miss Meade there, you knew you didn’t stand a chance anyway.

Alexandria seemed to pick up on your discomfort, for she placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. You looked at her and offered a hint of a smile before walking down the steps with her. Upon reaching the bottom, you were greeted by stares. Some seemed more interested in the dress you wore. After a few moments of silence, a young man with bright blonde short hair broke it. “Let me get this straight,” he said, “You’re marrying Langdon?”

The one named Coco let out a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure Venable was just joking,” she said.

“I assure you,” Miss Venable said from the upper floor. You looked up at her to see her eyes burned on you. “Mr. Langdon has informed me himself that Y/N is his fiancé.”

You looked back at Coco to see her glaring once again. What was her beef? As she linked arms with the young blonde man—who you later learned was named Mr. Gallant-- and walked away to another part of the room, you could have sworn you heard her mumble something along the lines of, “Never stopped me before.”

“Come now, everyone,” said a woman within the small group, “We are being so impolite. We should feel privileged to be joined by someone of such high prestige tonight.”

She was an attractive Black woman with a warm smile. She approached you with her arm extended. “Dinah Stevens,” she introduced herself.

You blinked a few times and your heart raced. You never in a million years thought you were the type to be star struck, but you also never expected to meet a celebrity. Now here you were, unable to form words with your lips. “Very nice to meet you,” you said when you were finally able to speak. You accepted her handshake as two younger people who you guessed were in their late teens—for they didn’t look that much younger than you—approached. They introduced themselves as Timothy and Emily. They seemed nice enough, but you were quickly able to figure out as the night progressed that the two of them were in love. It was obvious by the way they looked at one another, danced with each other, and were completely inseparable. There was another young handsome man by the name of Andre, and you would later come to find out that of all of them, he may have suffered the most at the hands of Miss Venable and Miss Meade, for his boyfriend, Stu was executed and later served to the rest of the inhabitants as food. You knew the women were cruel and abusive. You had no idea just how sick they really were.

The music began to play, and it seemed everyone was able to find a dance partner. You were thankful Alexandria was with you. She had no problem dancing, and she smiled a bright smile as she did. This must have been the most fun she had had in a long while. You, however, found yourself wishing you had invited Michael, and you found yourself wondering what your wedding would be like.

How much different or similar would it be than a normal wedding? Would there be a ceremony? A reception? Dancing? Would there even be a wedding at all? Or would it be some strange, dark, Satanic ritual? Would there be sacrifices? You shivered at the thought.

_Maybe I’m thinking too much. I never did agree to marry him._

But you knew that there was nothing inside of you that bared even the smallest resentment towards him. You had spent over a year thinking you would hate him only to meet him and fall head over heels. That was exactly what had happened, even if you had been trying to keep your feelings reserved. Deep down, you knew you wouldn’t refuse him. You didn’t want to refuse him.

* * *

 

It was very late into the night when the tub of apples was rolled into the room. “No one has a bite until everyone has had a turn,” Miss Venable ordered. The others lit up and smiled, looking at each other with almost child-like anticipation. But to you, there was something calculated about Miss Venable’s tone of voice. You looked over at Alexandria who was licking her lips at the apples bouncing in the water and decided maybe it was just your own anxiety.

Miss Venable suggested you go first since you had been generous to “donate” your gifts for this cause, but you refused, stating that the others haven’t experienced the privileges you have had and that you didn’t mind waiting. Miss Venable’s curl of the lips turned into a bitter line, but she did not argue. You watched everyone, including Alexandria, go before you before taking your turn. You were a bit hesitant. There was part of you that thought Miss Venable’s plan was to come up behind you and hold your head under the water while Miss Meade stood between you and the others should anyone try to help you.

To your relief, that was all cooked up in your imagination. You were able to corner an apple to the bottom of the tub and bite in with ease before pulling yourself out. The others clapped and you stood with them brushing wet hair from your face. Everyone waited until Miss Venable gave the okay before taking a bite at the same time.

It wasn’t long after swallowing that the poison took effect. Something immediately felt very wrong, and when Alexandria began to throw up aside of you, you knew everyone was in trouble. Others followed suit, and it didn’t take long for you to feel as if toxic waste was burning you from the inside out and bubbling up from your stomach. You leaned over against a nearby couch. Your mouth opened, and you felt as if everything you had ever eaten was released, and you couldn’t stop. Your limbs were weak, you fell over, as did everyone else. You could feel Alexandria’s hand on your ankle, desperate for comfort, but then to your horror, her grip around you grew weak and ice cold. You looked up to see Miss Venable standing over you, looking down at you from the top of her cane wearing the most wicked of smiles you had ever seen her wear. You moved your eyes from side to side looking for any signs the others were still alive, but all you saw were lifeless bodies of all the people you had so craved to meet and become friends with.

“A pity Mr. Langdon wasn’t here to save you,” she said.

But before you could even think of a retort, everything went black.

* * *

 

“Oh, just look at you,” said a familiar yet kind voice.

You opened your eyes to see Miss Meade’s face as she was crouched over you, but there was something off. It was Miss Meade, but it wasn’t _Miss Meade._ She was smiling, which was strange. You didn’t remember a time when you had ever caught her smiling.

“You’ve grown to be such a beautiful young woman,” she said as she gently took your hands, “Come on, let’s get you up on your feet.”

She helped you up, and you found you were standing in a house unfamiliar to you, and glancing at the windows, you saw it was daylight. How long had it been since you had even seen the sun? Without another look at the woman, you rushed over to one of them and saw a normal neighborhood with plush green grass, sprinklers, sidewalks, and a street!

“Why don’t you come have a seat with me, dear,” you heard her say, “We have a lot to talk about.”

You turned to see her still smiling that strange, sweet smile, with her arm slightly raised and beckoning you into the next room. Reluctantly, you did as asked and approached her. She rested her hand on your shoulder as she led you to a dining room. It looked normal enough, except near the table was a creepy Satanic altar. She must have picked up on your discomfort, for when she pulled out a chair for you, she assured you had nothing to be frightened of.

“Now,” she said, “Just let me get a look at you.”

She grinned as she rested her chin on her folded knuckles propped up by her elbows resting on the table. The way she spoke and looked at you was as if she were a member of your family who hadn’t seen you since you were a child. “You certainly are every bit as pretty as I remember. Maybe even a bit more.”

“Miss Meade,” you said softly, “I don’t understand what’s going on. Where am I and why are you being so nice to me?”

“First off, honey,” she said reaching over and resting her hand on top of yours, “Call me Miriam. Second, if you’re here and seeing me, you’re dead.”

The words were like a punch to your stomach, but you then suddenly remembered what had happened before you woke up to find yourself here. You had eaten the apple at the party, got fatally sick, and died. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and your eyes stung as they formed immediate tears. You found you couldn’t swallow that lump in your throat as you had been able to before the party. You were dead. It was all over now. Everything was for nothing.

“Chin up, child,” Miss Meade said, “You’re mistaking yourself for someone normal. You’re not normal. You’re Satan’s chosen one and there are two ways this is going to end: Either by you leaving and entering the realm of the living by yourself or by my dear boy coming to get you.”

You were more confused now than you had ever been. “I don’t understand,” you said wiping your tears.

“You’re a witch,” Miss Meade said, “and that boy Michael? I took him in and raised him, and it was I who had presented the deal of my dark lord to your parents on the day you were born.”

She smiled as she reached over and cupped your cheek. Just as the woman in your dreams did. “How about I make you a cup of tea?” she asked, “I feel you’re going to need it once I start to explain everything to you.”

* * *

 

Michael had hoped that he would see her in the dress he had given her, but he had heard nothing from her. He was a far cry from the boy he had once been when desperate for signs from his father and desperate for affection, but there was no denying that he was growing impatient with distance she was putting between them, and he was frustrated knowing that disrespecting the space she wanted would only push her further away.

...but what was there for him to do?

He kept to himself in his bedchamber working on his laptop alone, doing his best not to think of her. And while even alone he could keep his cool composure, he was failing miserably.  

Suddenly, he felt a sinking feeling inside of him and then sensed fear. Not his own, but _hers._

Something was happening, and she was frightened, and then, she was gone. Not completely gone, but gone from this plane of existence.

He had long learned not to fear death. He could bring back anyone he chose, but to feel her pain and to feel her fear...it was devastating. It broke his heart.

Closing his laptop and straightening the collar of his coat, he decided it was time to close that space between them. He was going to fix this, whether she liked it or not.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Meade treats you kindly and reveals things about yourself you never thought possible. Everything you once knew was wrong and you begin to question everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notable biblical figures are referenced here. If this makes you uncomfortable, it might be best for you to skip this chapter.

“So, how much do you know about the Bible, hun?” Miss Meade asked as you sipped your tea that she sweetened with sugar and honey, “Specifically, how much about Mary Magdalene?”

You shrugged as you set your cup down. “She was a prostitute,” you said, “and they wanted to kill her, but Jesus forgave her and she became a follower.”

Miss Meade’s brows furrowed at this, but she went on. “Well, Y/N, that’s part of the story, but you know, with thousands of years, it’s bound to happen that details get changed and left out.”

“What do you mean?”

“No one wanted to kill that woman for being a prostitute, though they probably weren’t a real big fan of that either,” she explained, “The real reason they wanted her put to death was because she was a witch. One of the most powerful witches in history.”

You took another sip of your tea. It sounded unbelievable, but then again, within the last year or so you found out your parents promised you to the devil’s son, the world ended, you seemed to have fallen in love at first sight, you died, and you were now being told you were a witch. Learning that Mary Magdalene was a witch wasn’t the craziest of things that had happened to you.

Miss Meade went on.

“She was meant to be ours,” she said, “But she was weak. She turned her back on our dark lord and went with Christ. Such a disappointment. After his crucifixion and resurrection, she went on spreading his word like a disease, and she never used her gifts. No one gave a damn that she was one of Christ’s favorites. She was a woman, and a woman with the kind of power she had was always in danger. Instead, she eventually had children of her own, and her gifts were passed down from generation to generation, but with the genetics of a witch mixing with those without magic? Well, no one had ever come close to matching her powers. Some descendants showed no signs of having powers at all, but our dark lord kept a close eye on the family. Watching and waiting for someone with potential. Someone so perfect to share a soul with the son he would have to usher in the end of the world as everyone knew it. That’s where you came in, hun.”

Now, things got even crazier. Added to the things that have happened to you was now the fact that you were related to Mary Magdalene. But you were left baffled. What made you special? Why choose you of all the descendants. There was never a time in your life when you felt special or as if something about you stood out from the rest. It wasn’t as if you felt you didn’t matter, but you had always felt completely normal. Was it really possible you had a unique, strong power inside of you this whole time?

“Not only did your parents agree for you to marry Michael,” Miss Meade went on, “Marriage and promises mean little to nothing. Rarely does anyone ever really mean their vows when they stand at the altar. We ensured a bond between the two of you. Part of your soul was also promised to Michael, and in exchange, you have part of his.”

Suddenly, some things were starting to make sense: Your inexplicable craving to be near him from the first time your eyes met. The strange feeling of hurt you felt by keeping yourself away. The way he knew what kind of books you liked.

You shared souls. You _were_ soulmates.

Michael’s voice echoed in your mind, “ _There’s_ _no hiding your attraction for me. There’s no use in denying it. I feel it too. It’s inescapable. It’s been written. It’s how it’s meant to be.”_

But there was something about this whole thing that bothered you. “Miss Mea—I mean, Miriam,” you said putting your cup down on the table once again, “Are you telling me I never had any choice in the matter?”

Something about it made you feel a strong resentment towards your parents, but Miss Meade reached over wearing a soft expression and gently placed her hand on your arm. “There’s always a choice, Y/N. That’s one thing my dark lord and that other guy have in common. Free will. You don’t have to do anything...but hear me out.”

She gave your arm an affectionate, almost motherly rub.

“Why don’t you help us out, Y/N?  Be a real wife to Michael. You don’t have to join us in worshipping the dark lord if you don’t want to. Just marry Michael. You were chosen from all those generations of your bloodline. It wouldn’t be right for him to marry anyone else. Think about it, Y/N.”

You stared into the warm, sweetened liquid in your cup and swirled it gently around as your mind processed everything. Finally, you looked back up at the other woman and sighed. “I don’t know what I want to do,” you said.

“Maybe you’re just over thinking it,” she said, “Look inside yourself. In your heart of hearts...what is it you really want?”

On its surface, the question was simple, yet when you closed your eyes and searched yourself, you realized there were a lot of things you wanted, but never had the privilege of having.

Safety...throughout your life, you listened to your parents shouting at one another. Berating each other. It put you on edge even as a child, but you bottled up that anxiety on the inside as best as you could.

But you felt safe with Michael. Michael wouldn’t ever raise his voice with you. He would never belittle you. He would listen. He would respect you. All the things you never saw your parents do for one another. All the ways you always saw love portrayed, but never saw in front of you. And he _did_ love you. You _knew_ this. And as much as you rejected the very idea of love, that’s really what you’ve always wanted.

You took a deep breath. You were ready. You were ready to spill all of those feelings to her, but before you could open your mouth, you felt someone place their hand on your shoulder, and that strange yet comforting electrical sensation flowed through your body the way it had done only once in your life: The day you met Michael.

Your heart raced and you opened your eyes and looked up.

There he was. Beautiful blue eyes looking down on you holding both hurt and relief to have found you. As if from instinct, you reached up and touched the hand on your shoulder, and he kneeled to meet you at eye level, taking both of your hands in his. The sensation grew between you, and you were suddenly overcome with emotion. Tears of joy spilled from your eyes. You were never happier to see anyone in your entire life. 

“I’m sorry,” you said in a choked voice, “I tried to come see you beforehand. I wanted to thank you for your kindness, but Miss Venable...”

He shook his head and shushed you. “Do not apologize,” he said reaching up to cup the side of your face, gently brushing away a tear with his thumb, “I’m here now. I’m taking you home.”

It was only when she spoke that you remembered someone else was in the room. “My boy...” Miss Meade said. You pulled your attention away from Michael to see that Miss Meade was looking at him adoringly. Tears sparkling in her eyes as she folded her hands in front of her chin as if she were praying.

***

Michael had only come to find Y/N and bring her back, but he had never expected to find Miriam too. The woman who came to closest to ever being a mother to him. 

Keeping one hand securely intertwined with Y/N’s, he reached out a trembling hand to take the older woman’s.

“Miriam?”

Even as she took his hand, he couldn’t believe he was actually seeing her again. Cordelia had ensured he never would.

“I am so proud of you,” she said to him before looking at Y/N, “Both of you.”

“Come with us,” he said, “Please...”

She smiled sadly and shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s not possible,” she said, “At least not yet, but with this wonderful girl here? It won’t always be impossible. She was, after all, the one who found me first.” 

She gave Y/N a wink. “I was never supposed to be found, dear, but you did.”

Michael looked over at his fiance who looked so utterly confused. A curl formed across his lips as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t understand,” she said, “I didn’t do anything.”

“It’s those gifts passed down in your family line I’ve been telling you about,” she said, “They led you here, but you’re not quite strong enough to take me back with you. Not yet, at least.”

Miriam turned her attention back to him. “She’s going to need your help,” she said, “You’re going to need to teach her everything you know.”

“Of course,” he said.

“But you need to go now,” Miriam said, “You’ll be seeing me again, but for now, take her home. You two have business to attend to.”

She was very right. There was the matter of Miss Venable’s punishment for attempting to take Y/N away from him. Not that it really mattered, since he was always going to be able to bring her back, but Y/N had been scared and had felt utterly alone in those moments she took her last breaths. There would have to be consequences for that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You begin to come into your own and see how powerful you are firsthand before confronting Miss Venable with Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to wrap this up in the next two or three chapters, so expect the next few parts to be lengthier!  
> Triggers: guns, blood, death

You woke from your death no differently than from a regular nap. With a soft sigh.  

Was it a dream? Did you really die? You didn’t even feel sick.  

You opened your eyes to see Michael leaning over you with furrowed brows and his angelic locks hanging down towards your face, and you sat up quickly to hook your arms around him. He returned your embrace and for a while, you just held one another. The buzzing current was triggered, and you found you couldn’t get enough of it. Now you understood what it was. It was your souls connecting. It felt right because it was.

After a few more moments of embracing, he pulled away gently only, it seemed, to get a good look at you. His lips curled as he gently framed your face with his hands. “Come,” he said, “We have some matters to attend to.”  

He stood and helped you to your feet, but before he could lead you away from the room, you stopped him. It wasn’t right to leave the others lying there dead.

“Wait,” you said, “We can’t leave them.”

He turned and looked at you wearing a look of confusion and maybe even a hint of amusement on his face before glancing at those lying dead around you.

“They are of no concern for me,” he said, “and neither should they be to you. There is another Outpost, and I have deemed them all unworthy of accompanying us to it. The only thing that matters to me is that you are safe and that Miss Venable faces the just consequences for stepping out of line.”

His words were soft, soothing, and gentle, but that did not take away from their harshness. They were cruel, and he spoke them without any sign of hesitance. Your hand remained in his, and that unmistakable buzz between the two of you still remained, but your heart sank. Is this what marrying him was going to be? Were you to become as cold and uncaring as he was towards the unfortunate people lying dead in the room in which the two of you stood?

You couldn’t accept that. It was wrong. Especially for poor Alexandria who had been so sweet and had reached out for you in her last moments of life. You were attached to Michael and drawn and connected to him by powers beyond human understanding, but you were not going to budge.  

“Michael,” you said putting as much firmness in your tone as possible, “I’m not leaving until everyone is taken care of. I can’t. I won’t.” You raised your chin and locked eyes as your free hand formed into a defiant ball at your side. The beauty of his blue eyes alone was enough to make your knees wobble, but you were determined to stay strong. His pretty face was not going to be enough to sway you from what was right.

He looked less amused now, and although he held no anger in his eyes, you could sense annoyance. “Take another look around you,” he said, “To you, these are all innocents, but let me tell you what I know. That man, Gallant? He’s a failure, self-absorbed, and almost as selfish as his grandmother—who he murdered.”

Your eyes widened as they fell on the young man you had earlier sensed a sort of discontent when he learned you were Michael’s betrothed. Michael continued.

“That woman, Coco—she was wealthy beyond anyone’s imagination and his number one customer. She has never cared for a single person other than herself in all her life,” he said, “And her, Miss Dinah Stevens. She sold out her own kind for a television show, knowing full well this apocalypse was on the horizon. Imagine, knowing the end of everything as you know it will be gone within a few years and betraying the other witches for a few years of fame.”

It would have been enough to learn that Dinah was a witch too, but your mind fixated on the fact that she sold others out for her own gain. And to think you once considered her on par with the likes of Oprah Winfrey.

There were a few moments of silence as your mind processed this information, but as soon as you were able to gather yourself, you spoke. “Alright,” you said, “So, there are people in here who weren’t so great, but what about Timothy? Emily? Andre? What about Alexandria?”

His brows furrowed again as if he were surprised he hadn’t changed your mind by now. “What about them?” he asked.

“What was their crime?”  

“Nothing.”

He said it as if he were telling you the time of day, and it didn’t set well with you. “Then they should not have to die,” you said.

You feared he wouldn’t he couldn’t be persuaded, but then you began to plead with him.

“Michael, please,” you said. You felt a lump forming in your throat, and although you tried to fight it, there was no hiding the quiver in your voice. “At least bring back Alexandria. She’s the first friend I made here and she’s been so kind to me. If your feelings for me are real, you should understand that. We can talk about the rest later, but please. Bring Alexandria back.”

You saw something in his expression falter, and just as a tear had slipped its way down the side of your face, he was quick to reach up and wipe it away.  

“I won’t do it,” he said, “But I’ll show you how you can do it.”

* * *

Normally, he would never have even considered bringing the likes of anyone like those who surrounded them, but he was weakened. Weakened by the feeling of electricity of being near her. Weakened by his need to please her and see her happy, and he had almost lost himself when he saw she began to cry as she pleaded for the life of the one named Alexandria.  

“She’s the first friend I made here and she’s been so kind to me…”

For the past several days he had given her gifts of apples, books, chocolate, and the gown she now wore. What would all of that mean if he allowed for this simple friendship to be taken away? Outside of his love for her, kindness was not something that came naturally to him, so it had never crossed his mind taking her back into the realm of the living to revive the others, but this wasn’t for Alexandria. It was for her, and Miriam did tell him that he would need to teach her everything he knew. Why not start here?

“I don’t understand,” Y/N said, “You don’t really think I can bring her back, do you?”

“Of course I do,” he said still brushing away some of her tears with his thumb as his hand rested on the side of her face, “You have more power inside you than you can even comprehend. It’s how you knew my name when we first met and it’s how you were able to find Miriam without even trying.”

The look of disbelief on her face was something he adored, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on her expression. He really wanted to find Miss Venable and carry out an appropriate punishment, and the sooner he could make Y/N happy by bringing Alexandria back, the sooner he could locate the woman who had caused her so much misery since she had been brought to the outpost.

Y/N still looked as if she doubted the power she had, even after everything that had happened to her. It led him to wonder the kind of life she had before coming here. Was she abandoned too? Betrayed by the people she loved? All questions he would ask a little later, but for now, he wanted to focus all of her attention on her friend.

“Take her hand,” he said, “It’s alright.”

Still holding onto that expression of doubt, Y/N did as instructed.

* * *

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe his words were genuine. But how many times in your life were you lied to by the people you trusted most. Your own parents put on a show of hating each other just to take away from the appeal of romance. For all you knew, Michael was setting you up to fail, and the moment you failed, he would express a false sympathy and the subject of bringing your friend back would be dropped.

Right now, however, you couldn’t think about that. All you wanted was to get your friend back, and if there was even a slight chance she could be brought back, that would have to do for the moment.

You kneeled down and took your friend’s icy hand into your own.

“Now,” Michael said as he kneeled next to her, “focus all of your attention on her. Visualize life flowing from your fingertips and entering her body. Think of nothing else but that.”

You closed your eyes and focused on his words and imagined the gift of life living within your body, traveling up to your shoulder, down your arm, to your hand, and being released from your fingertips, entering the tiny pores of her body and flowing into her.  

When you felt her cold hand grow warmer, your heart raced with surprise and excitement and you opened your eyes. The color was coming back to her face. You couldn’t believe it! Were you bringing her back?

Then, suddenly, the color began to drain from her serene face once again, and you felt a drop in the pit of your stomach. What was happening? Why was she growing pale and cold again?

“Don’t doubt yourself,” Michael said taking your free hand. The electric current between the two of you was almost like a jump start, for Alexandria’s cheeks grew rosy and her skin warm once more in an instant. Her eyes fluttered open and her eyebrows raised as her lips parted to let out a gasp.

You tightened your grip on her hand. “Alexandria!”

She turned her head towards you and struggled to sit up. She frowned in confusion. “What’s going on?” she asked, “What happened? Did I pass out?”

You didn’t answer her. You simply threw your arms around her. She froze for a moment or two before returning your embrace. Once you were satisfied she was truly alive again, you explained what happened.

“Miss Venable played a dirty trick on everyone and it cost everyone their lives,” you explained, “but she’s not going to get away with it. Everything changes today.”

You felt Michael gently squeeze your hand. “We must go,” he said.

You nodded and looked back at Alexandria. “Go straight to my room,” you said, “and don’t answer to anyone but Michael or myself.”

* * *

They practically ran into Miss Venable and Miriam (or at the very least, the closest he could have to replace her at the moment) near his room. They were likely going to gloat about taking Y/N away from him. At the very least, he could give credit to Miss Venable for knowing his weakness. She probably hoped to put him in such a vulnerable state that she could kill him as well.

“Why, Miss Venable,” he said, “It seems you are in a hurry to see me. Please tell me your urgent matter.”

He watched with delight as her eyes fell upon Y/N. The look of shock and horror was transparent and priceless. She didn’t say anything at first but soon brought a trembling hand to her chest.  

“Y/N,” she said breathlessly, “I’m so glad to see you up and moving about. When you and the others fell ill and collapsed, we were prepared to tell Michael the terrible news, but I cannot express my relief to see there is no news to tell at all.”

“Save it,” Y/N said.

He turned to look at his fiancé with raised eyebrows. There was a wonderful coldness in her response that he quite liked.

“I know you had meant to kill me, and you succeeded,” Y/N went on, “In the eighteen months that I’ve known you, you’ve treated me like garbage. You have berated me. Hurt me. Even hit me. That ends today.”

Michael’s jaw ticked at the mention that she had put her hands on her, but Y/N wasn’t done.

“I told you that I was to marry the anti-Christ a long time ago. You didn’t believe me, and even I had a hard time believing it, but the difference? It was in your best interest to believe me, but you’re too cold-hearted to trust the words of someone like me, aren’t you? Maybe if you had listened, you wouldn’t find yourself in the position you are in right now. Do I seem deranged now?”

Miss Venable’s face went pale. “Miss Meade, shoot them,” she ordered, “And shoot him first!”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Y/N said.

Michael felt a bit of pride for Y/N at that moment. She was starting to come into her own, and she fully trusted he could handle the situation they were in. As Miss Meade pointed the gun at him, they both looked at one another and smiled. There was no fear in Y/N’s eyes, and the self-doubt he had once seen was almost nonexistent. He saw trust, and maybe even the love he had been craving she would return.

He turned his attention back to Miriam as her face softened with confusion as her body turned and the weapon was pointed at Miss Venable instead who looked at the other woman with horror. He could practically see the thoughts racing through her mind: Why was this happening? Why was her accomplice turning on her?

“Shoot them!” Miss Venable said, and there was no hiding the terrified desperation in her tone now. But Miriam had no control over her motions now. He was in control. He was always in control.  

“It’s a pity,” he heard Y/N say, “That you’re too cold for anyone to be here to save you.”

Michael let out a soft chuckle before the trigger was pulled, and in an instant, Miss Venable began to bleed from the wound in her stomach. Her face went even paler than before as she gasped from shock, and she put her hand to the wound as if to cover it, only to look down at her blood-soaked fingers. She then looked at Miriam who looked horrified herself before glancing in Y/N’s direction, and then her eyes rolled back as her body grew limp and collided lifelessly into the floor.

* * *

You couldn’t believe it.

That horrible woman was dead at your feet, and you weren’t horrified. You weren’t bothered.

Instead, you were relieved. The source of the abuse and misery you had been suffering was gone.

There were a few moments of silence as you looked down at Miss Venable’s lifeless body. You were almost fascinated at the sight of the deep red blood pooling around her body. Finally, Miss Meade spoke.

“I…I don’t know why I did that…”

You didn’t understand why, but you started to laugh, and you couldn’t stop. As relieved as you were that Miss Venable was gone, this wasn’t a particularly funny situation. Miss Meade gave you another horrified look, which made you laugh even more. You had feared this woman too and doubted she had any feelings, and tonight you had met some other version of her that had raised Michael, and you couldn’t figure out just who or what this look alike was.

Your laughing ceased, however, when Michael leaned over and touched his lips to the side of your face. Your skin tingled and your heart raced, and his long blonde hair tickled your shoulder in such a satisfying way that your eyelids grew heavy.

“I need to have a word with Miriam,” he said, “Why don’t you go check on Alexandria and I’ll be there shortly to clear up any lingering questions I’m sure you have.”

You turned and met his eyes and you felt your limbs turn into gelatin once more as you nodded in agreement. Before parting with him, he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips to kiss it.

“I love you,” he said, “I’ll be right behind you.”

You felt a goofy giddiness inside of you, but you managed to remain composed with a smile as you reluctant parted with him and headed the direction you came. You were ready to tell Alexandria everything and just spill your feelings.  

With all of your heart, you thought maybe you loved him. You’d have some things to work on, definitely, but after everything that had happened to you up until now, who were you to believe it would be impossible.

You had thought you would be able to go straight to your room since there was no longer anyone there to stop you or place obstacles in your way, but then you were greeted by something most unexpected.

Standing in the room you had left the others dead were Coco and Dinah; both living and breathing, and along with them, another grey who another woman you hadn’t seen before speaking softly to her, and two others, one older with thick fluffy looking red hair and a young blonde woman maybe around your age there as well.

“By God, it’s her!” the red haired woman said, her voice soft and soothing, “Cordelia, it’s the other witch.”

You froze. What was going on?

The one who had been speaking to the grey turned her attention to you.

“So glad to finally meet you,” she said with a warm smile, “We need to have a talk about your fiance.”  


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The witches try to reason with Y/N, but Y/N decides to follow her heart. But what does this mean for the state of the world and her morality?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took so long to finish this chapter, mostly because I was having trouble with how I would go about going from this to the ending I have planned. I really hope once I get to the end, my readers feel satisfied. Way more so than with the canon finale!

Something about seeing all those women standing there and looking at you the way they were made you uneasy.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, “I know my place and I’ve accepted it. Michael has been very kind to me.”

_And I think I love him._

“Oh, dear,” the older woman with the fiery red hair said, “Cordelia, my dear, it looks like this is going to become an intervention. We’ve been away long enough for her to grow soft on him.”

You felt something condescending in the woman’s tone that you didn’t appreciate, but it was Dinah that spoke on your behalf.

“I believe this smart young woman knows her place,” Dinah said, “And as do I. You have no place here. You’ve already lost.”

After what Michael had told you about her, you weren’t quite sure if you liked her standing up for you, but at least someone in the room wasn’t there to try to pull you away from Michael.

You shook your head, brushing off Dinah’s support.

“Just who are you?” you asked the others.

The one the red head had called Cordelia smiled warmly at you in a way that almost reminded you of your mother. You felt something in the pit of your stomach as she began to speak. “My name is Cordelia,” she said, “I believe you have already met Coco and Dinah.” She gestured at the red head and the much younger blonde. “This is Myrtle and Madison.” She then gestured at the grey. “And this is Mallory. We are the last witches remaining on earth.”

“With the exception of you, my dear,” Myrtle said.

You looked toward the grey named Mallory who looked just as confused as you felt upon entering the room before turning your attention back to Cordelia. “And you’re here to stop Michael?” you asked.

“I know you think you might love him,” Cordelia said calmly, “but he is a man of pure evil. You are not, Y/N. There’s still good inside you. If you marry him and stand by him in all of the cruel and evil acts he unleashes on those who still remain here, you will know nothing but misery. I promise you that.”

She placed a hand on the side of your face that reminded you of your dream with the woman in robes, but you pulled away. “No,” you said, “You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s done for me. What he’s showed me.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” Madison chimed in as she approached the two of you, “You’re telling me that he hasn’t done a single thing to piss you off?”

You weren’t quite sure if it qualified as being “pissed off,” but you had recalled earlier in the evening when you had been frustrated that he didn’t want to revive the others who had been poisoned, but he did show you how to revive Alexandria. How could you be mad at him for that?

Madison, however, seemed to see something in your expression. “So, he has, hasn’t he?” she said, “So, what was it, hmm? Has he killed anyone in front of you yet? That’s nothing. Has he told you about his ability to obliterate a person’s soul? Make them cease to exist? That’s a specialty of his. He hasn’t told you about that, has he?”

“Enough!”

Your voice echoed off the walls, and you underestimated just how strong it was, for a couple of the witches, Madison included, briefly lost their footing. You covered your mouth, terrified and embarrassed, but then you felt that warm tingling buzz under your skin, and you knew he was near.

You turned and looked at the top of the steps and saw him there, smiling at you with pride standing next to Miss Meade. Your limbs turned wobbly once again, as you returned the smile. You were so happy to see him there. Maybe he could put an end to the nonsense you had run into.

He looked up from you to scan the room at the other witches. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t torment my fiancé,” he said.

You felt someone stand next to you and looked over to see it was Dinah. “Go to him, Y/N,” she said softly.

You looked back up at Michael and saw him extend a hand to you, smiling warmly. Without hesitance, you walked up the stairs and accepted it, standing by him confidently.

“I have chosen my place,” you said, “I will not betray my soulmate. What you suspect is true. I love him.”

You watched as Myrtle’s eyebrows lift slightly over her angled black-framed glasses. “Oh, heaven,” she said, “It is worse than we thought. _Soulmates_.”

* * *

 

Inside, he was ecstatic to hear her say the words.

_“I love him.”_

It had been the very thing he had been waiting for from the moment he introduced himself to her, but as he stood there holding her hand, he studied the witches, and even though he was confident that he could not be beat, his heart told him that Y/N needed to be somewhere safe. She was not ready for this kind of fight.

_And you don’t want her to see the things you’re about to do._

It was a thought he shoved away, but it was still there nonetheless.

“As much as I anticipate obliterating all of you,” he said, “I request that you allow Y/N to excuse herself before we proceed.”

Y/N looked up at him at that moment, and it was clear from the slight quiver of her eyebrow that she was confused.

“You still have much to learn,” he explained to her, “I want you to go back to your room and stay with Alexandria until this is over. I will be there shortly. I promise.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” she said softly.

He could see the genuine worry in her eyes, and it made him feel soft. Never had he felt so soft.

“I know,” he said placing a hand on her cheek. The buzz he felt from the simple touch was almost enough to make him change his mind, but he would remain firm. “But you are not ready for this,” he went on, “I will not be long.”

He then leaned and placed a kiss on her forehead before giving her a reassuring smile. A smile so warm and genuine, it was likely to surprise at least one of the witches watching the romantic scene unfold in front of them.

* * *

 

You didn’t want to leave him, but you also wanted to trust him that everything was going to be okay. You gave him a reluctant nod after he kissed you.  

“Very well,” you said gently before glancing over at the witches one last time before you would excuse yourself. Your eyes, however, fixated on the grey. As confused as she was before, there was something strange in her expression now. She now looked pensive, and there was an odd feeling of comfort as the two of you looked at one another. You got the impression that while she was certainly on the side of the witches, she wasn’t completely against you or anything she had just witnessed.

You looked over at Michael one last time before leaving.  

“I love you,” you said softly before leaning towards him and pressing your lips against his.

His full pouty lips were even softer than you had imagined from the moment you first met him, and you felt like the two of you were exchanging a special kind of electric current through your bodies as they touched.  

Everything about this was right. Everything about this was as it should be.

Regardless of who he was or what he had done or would do, you knew you would never love anyone else. Even if you tried, it would never be like this.

You needed him. He needed you. You were two parts of a whole.

It would be the biggest shame known to man to lose one another.

You felt his hand find your hip and the other frame the side of your face once again as he leaned forward and deepened the kiss, unashamed of who was watching. Happily demonstrating how much he loved you in return, and you didn’t care who was watching either. You would have gladly continued to put on your public display of affection, but it was Michael that broke the kiss.

He cupped your chin and looked deep into your eyes as he spoke. “I need you to go now,” he said gently, “Go where it’s safe. I will come for you when it’s all over. I will take you to the other outpost, and we will be married.”

* * *

 

Mallory’s eyes never left the affectionate couple, though she could practically feel the confusion and distaste of her sisters who surrounded her, particularly, Madison’s cringing.

But as she watched Y/N reluctantly separate herself from Michael and how he watched her leave in the most lovingly and longing way—something she thought was beyond the son of the devil—she realized his potential.

It was far too late for him now. He was too far gone on his dark path to ever be good again.

 _But maybe_ , she thought, _he doesn’t have to die._

Maybe there was another way.

And the way Y/N had looked at Michael with such love and such need...how could she take that away from her? Who would she be to kill part of her soul?

When she had sought out the guidance of Cordelia and met her sisters at the school, Mallory finally felt at home and as if she had a family. She imagined Y/N felt something similar with Michael. Now that she knew him, she could never feel right again without him.

 _There has to be another way_ , she thought, _there has to be._


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being kicked out of his grandmother’s house, Michael is treated with kindness by a stranger who offers to help him. Y/N suffers from a recurring nightmare that includes a mystery woman named Cordelia and a handsome young man she can’t help but feel drawn to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! An Update! I have a feeling this might be confusing to some of my readers, but hopefully, I’ve written this in a way that will make more sense as you continue to read.
> 
> Also, hopefully you all are still interested. I know I’ve kept people waiting a while, so I hope this is worth the wait!

His beloved grandmother practically pushed him out of the door. 

What was he to do? Where was he to go? He needed help, and now he didn’t even have a place to live.

He wished he could be normal. He wished he could stop whatever it was inside of him that made him want to kill. He knew it wasn’t right. But for the life of him, he just couldn’t turn it off.

Why didn’t his grandma understand that? Why did she not want to help  him?

He took a couple steps out the door before his eyes fell upon a young woman standing on the sidewalk, smiling at him as if she expected him. She was pretty with blonde hair and large kind eyes. “Hi, Michael,” she said to him as he approached.

Michael felt calmed just by hearing her gentle voice, but he felt so confused. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Someone who believes in you,” the young woman said, “My name is Mallory, and I know you are capable of love, and I know for a fact there’s someone out there who understands you completely in a way no one else can.”

His brows furrowed, but his mind raced to images of that person he saw in the dreams he had. The young woman who held in her eyes complete understanding for him. His heart raced at the thought of her.

“You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?” Mallory asked with curled lips.

“You know where she is?” 

“I don’t,” she replied, “but I can help.”

She then reached into her pocket and handed him a small folded paper. “This is the address to a special school. Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. Don’t let the name mislead you. Talk to a woman named Cordelia. She will help you.”

“Will you take me?” he asked.

The young woman shook her head. “I cannot be here long,” she said, “but there’s a lot on the line and your role on this earth and your happiness is at stake. Will you promise me you will find a way to get there?”

Michael trusted her. He nodded his head.

“I’m glad,” she said, “I promise that things will be better once you are there.”

Michael looked down at the address again, studying the letters and numbers she had scribbled down, but when he looked up again to thank her, she was gone.

* * *

 

_ Since before you could remember, you had this strange dream. _

_ You would be sitting in an unfamiliar room with a young woman on the bed, and you would gush to her how much you had fallen in love. _

_ “It all seemed strange to me at first,” you would say, “All of it, but when we kissed, everything made sense. Now that I know him. Now that I’ve met him, I know that there will never be anyone else. He’s the missing piece in my life.” _

_ “I’m so happy for you,” the young woman would say clasping her hands together with genuine excitement for you, “but...if you don’t mind me asking...why did he tell you to stay with me? Why aren’t you out there with him? What’s going on?” _

_ “There’s a battle taking place,” you would explain, “and it's simply not safe for either of us. We need to stay put until he comes for us.” _

_ But in the pit of your stomach, you knew something was off. You could not extinguish the fear burning inside of you that you should be there. That he needed you. That he could possibly fail and you’d lose him forever. _

_ “Something tells me you don’t want to be here with me,” the young woman would say, “Something tells me, you want to be fighting next to him...” _

_ You could feel hurt for her in your heart. You knew she had no one. You were the only one who showed her kindness, and now you were tempted to abandon her. _

_ “Go,” she said cupping your cheek, “I’ll be here when you get back. I promise.” _

_ It took some coaxing on her part, but she did eventually get you to leave to help Michael. Your soulmate. _

_ What was all of this? Who were these people? Why were you dreaming of this? _

_ The next thing you knew, you were walking over bloodied bodies. One body had bits and pieces of brain matter scattered about the area of which it lay instead of a head and one woman lay lifelessly on the floor with a hole in her chest as if her heart had been ripped out of her. _

_ You ventured further and further until you saw him, standing feet away from a blonde woman who wore an expression as if she was desperate and about to do something drastic. You swallowed a hard lump in your throat as you called out to him. _

_ He turned to you. His beautiful face was dirtied by blood and his clothes adorned with rips and tears. Such was to be expected when you took part in a battle as he had been. _

_ “Y/N! I told you to stay away!” _

_ He wore fear in his eyes. Not for himself, but for you, but your eyes were more fixed on the woman behind him who drove a knife into her chest before Michael could approach you. From a nearby room you could hear the distressed cry of an older woman. _

_ “Cordelia!” _

_ And that’s when you’d wake up gasping in a cold sweat. _

* * *

Weeks after your 21 st birthday was when things began to change.

It was bound to happen. Your parents were fighting more than usual, and there were just small strange things that were really putting you off more than usual like  certain things you were hearing your parents say to each.

“What did you allow that woman to do all those years ago?” she heard her mother shout at her father, “What exactly did we promise? Why hasn’t anything happened? Not knowing is killing me, and I watch you act like there’s nothing wrong!”

“What did I promise?!” your father shouted back, “I believe you were there too! And you don’t think I worry? I worry every single birthday she has! There’s nothing about her life or achievements I can enjoy without the worry one day she’ll be taken away.”

You decided in that moment listening in your room that you were going to demand answers.

You threw the covers of your bed from your body and marched out the door of your room, down the stairs, and into the room your parents were fighting in.

“What are you two arguing about now?”

They turned and both looked startled to see you standing there.

“Honey...” your mother said so softly it was almost a whisper, “We didn’t mean for you to hear any of that.”

“I always hear it,” you said, “Ever since I was a  child I’ve heard it.”

“It’s nothing, Y/N,” your father said, “None of this is your fault.”

“Well,  it sure sounds like I’m a contributing factor.”

Your parents looked at one another than at you, both unsure of how much to reveal to you, it seemed, if anything at all.

It was your mother who finally spoke.

“Y/N, why don’t we all go to bed and talk about this in the morning.”

The words themselves didn’t matter. It was what their intent was that bothered you. Throughout your life, your parents acted like their constant bickering and raised voices didn’t take a toll on you. They acted like their behavior was no big deal. When you told them it bothered you, they always apologized and promised to do better but were back at it  shortly after . Why should you believe they’d sit down and talk with you about it the next day?

“No, Mom,” you said as your hands formed into fists at your sides, “You two always try to brush off my feelings and you always go back to the way things have always been. You are both keeping something from me, and I want to know what it is.”

“And we promise we’ll tell you...tomorrow,” your father tried to reassure you.

You weren’t buying it.

“Your promises mean nothing when you always break them.”

“But we’ll keep this one,” your mother said.

“You’ve said that in the past too,” you said. You could feel your blood boiling under your skin. You were not going to let them get away with it this time. You were tired. You were over it.  Twenty-one years over it. You were going to get answers, and you were going to get them now.

At one point, you glanced at the wall opposite side of the room and saw your reflection in a mirror that had always been hanging there. It wasn’t the mirror that was significant, but the reflection you saw. You looked different and unlike yourself. Was that even you? There was something in your eyes that put you off, but you refused to be distracted from the situation with your parents.

“I swear,” you said, “If you don’t answer me, I’m packing my bags and leaving tonight.”

It was then your mother approached you with open arms and a desperate look on her face. “No, honey,” she said wrapping her arms around you, “You shouldn’t feel you need to leave. We just need to talk it over with ourselves and figure out the best way to tell you.”

This made you wriggle away from your mother’s hold on you. 

“Are you kidding me?” you asked backing away, “That’s what you’re going to give me? A few words to buy you some time so you can figure out how exactly to continue to lie to me? Something is going on, and I want to know what it is. I have a right to know what it is.”

Your voice was r ising and your parents looked alarmed. You could have sworn you saw the curtains on the windows begin to sway as you spoke, but maybe you imagined it.

It was your father who stepped towards you. “Y/N, please.”

“No!”

It was loud. Louder than you ever imagined you could be, but you saw your parents lose their footing, and you were starting to completely lose it. You glanced towards the mirror again, and you were now frightened by what you saw. There was a darkness in your eyes that made your heart race and it was gone the moment you spotted it replaced by fear, and in that very moment, the glass spilt down the middle before bursting into a thousand pieces , sending the small shards hurling towards your parents. They moved away in time to avoid being fatally hurt, but they didn’t escape the shards that broke the skin on their arms as they protected themselves as they fled.

You watched as your father took your mother in his arms to assess the cuts on her arms as she did the same to his, and then they both looked up at you. Absolutely terrified. There was no hiding it, even as your mother reached out to you.

You stepped back.

“No...”

“It’s alright,” your father said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

But there was doubt in his words written all over his face.

You shook your head. “I have to go,” you said before immediately turning to head back to your room.

Neither your mother nor father followed.

* * *

You fought to go to sleep that night. You just couldn’t escape the thought that plagued you from the moment the glass shattered.

Whatever happened, it felt good.

Was that wrong?

It frightened you. You only wanted answers. You didn’t want to hurt anyone let alone your parents!

What was happening? You just didn’t understand. What were you?

After some time, you finally gave up on sleep and took out your laptop. Surely, there was someone out there who experienced what you were experiencing, or at the very least, understood.

Through the magic of Google, you came across countless stories from girls all over the  country . Girls that set things on fire, who moved objects without touching them, who claimed to have been to hell and back, and those who claimed to have the ability to resurrect any living creature. It all led you to a video about some school in New Orleans.

Had you seen it before, you would have thought it was bullshit, but now you were willing to believe just about anything given what happened to you. You took everything down. The address. The name of the woman being interviewed, Cordelia Goode.

_ Cordelia! _

It was the woman in your dreams! She was real! But why did she always appear in your dreams?

You immediately looked into flight to New Orleans.  Even if the trip was a bust, at the very least, maybe this woman could point you in the direction of someone who could help you.

You knew this was crazy, but what choice did you have? Your gut told you that you couldn’t continue to be around your parents until you understood what was wrong with you, and if they weren’t going to let you in on what was happening, you were going to have to seek out the answers yourself.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader makes it to Cordelia’s school, and she and the girls welcome her with open arms. Little does Reader know, there’s someone special waiting for her there as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got myself to do it! I finally buckled down and wrote this chapter. 2019 has not been very kind to me, but I finally was able to get myself to write, and it’s helped me feel a little better. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

“I had to come here,” you said to her as she sat across the table from you. She had a calm, peaceful demeanor. She was more at ease than she had ever been in the dreams she appeared in. Her home was full of young girls from all around the country and from all walks of life, and there was nothing spectacular about any of them. None looked any different than anyone you’d see in your everyday life, but they all, apparently, were witches. Maybe you were too. “I’m afraid if someone isn’t able to help me understand what’s going on with me, I might really hurt someone,” you went on, “and I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Well, I’m glad you did come to see me,” the woman said. Her smile was warm. Welcoming. You were overwhelmed with a feeling of acceptance already. It was foreign to you. You felt like you could hug her, but knew that would be weird. “Can you explain to me what happened?” she asked.

You told her about what happened when you fought with your parents. How you saw a different person when you caught your reflection in the mirror and how the glass shattered. How you could have seriously hurt or— _ worse yet _ —killed them.

“I’m terrified, Miss Goode,” you said, “I can’t explain what happened. I don’t know why it happened, but what scares me the most is that it felt...well...a little good. I don’t want to feel like that. I don’t want to hurt people. I’m a good person.”

Cordelia wore a sympathetic and thoughtful expression as she listened to you. “I’m sorry to hear about the circumstances that brought you here,” she said, “And I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but do you believe there is any chance you could demonstrate something similar to what you did when you argued with your parents?”

You felt something like a gut punch when she asked, though you knew why she did. She couldn’t let you stay if she couldn’t really be sure what you experienced was real. “I. ..I don’t know,” you said, “I haven’t tried to do anything since it happened. I’m afraid to.”

“I understand,” Cordelia said, “How about this...I can introduce you to some of my girls. You will be under no pressure to do anything. We’ll see if anything comes naturally, and if not, I can direct you to people who can help you. I don’t want you to worry about having a place to stay.”

You were overwhelmed with gratitude, and this time, you couldn’t contain yourself. As the two of you got up from the table, you couldn’t help but throw your arms around the woman. She stiffened slightly at first, but soon let out a soft chuckle and returned your embrace.

* * *

Mallory could feel something change in the house, and her instincts led her to knocking on his door, but before she could even place her knuckles on the wood, the door swung gently open. 

_ He knew. _

“Michael...” 

“She’s here,” he said finishing her statement for her.

She watched his handsome features light up with excitement. This was what they had both been waiting for. This was the day Michael was going to meet the young woman of his dreams and the day Mallory was going to know for sure whether or not she had made the right decision not to kill him.

Of course, the very thought of it pained her. He was not the person he was when they met in that other life. She had led him here, where he would be given a home and loved and cared for. He was rough around the edges, sure, and ashamed of anyone he had hurt before coming to New Orleans, but no one would have called him evil. He knew nothing of his other life and neither did anyone else. She thought it was best that no one but her knew, for she didn’t want to risk disrupting any changes made to reality.

“Would you like to see her?” she asked.

Suddenly, Michael looked  alarmed. He had been waiting for this day all of his life, but now that it was here, all of the nerves were washing over him. She could practically feel his thoughts.  _ What if she doesn’t like me? What if I fuck this up? _

"You won’t,” Mallory assured him, “Just take a deep breath. I’ll be right there with you.”

* * *

Cordelia had two young women by the names of Zoe and Queenie help you get settled in. Zoe was slender with long wispy brownish blonde hair and Queenie had smooth dark skin and a round figure she carried well. Both were every bit as warm as Cordelia. Zoe told you about how she ended up there. About what had happened with her boyfriend and how scared she too had been when she came there. Queenie told you about how she had grown up all her life in the foster system and how Cordelia pretty much saved her life by taking her in.

You almost immediately felt a strong bond with them. Although you all had different experiences, you felt comforted knowing that they understood the feelings and anxiety you were experiencing.

“I just hope I can at least find out what’s wrong with me,” you said as you zipped up the empty suitcase on the bed.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Queenie said, “We’ve all had issues coming here, but there’s nothing wrong with any of us.”

“She’s right,” Zoe said, “We’re just...different, but hopefully, with the work Cordelia’s been doing to normalize us, we’ll soon be understood by more people.”

As they spoke, something changed. It was still a welcoming feeling, of course, but you were suddenly overwhelmed, filled with feelings of pure bliss. Feelings of love. Tenderness. Something made your skin feel like it was vibrating with a pleasant electricity, and you felt so happy that all of a sudden, that you thought you might burst into tears.

“Y/N? You okay?” Queenie asked with furrowed brows before you heard a light knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” you said before either of them could move towards the door.

You walked over, turned the knob, and gently pulled it towards you. There stood a young woman with a familiar face and wavy blonde hair adorned with a crown of flowers. She smiled at you as if she were seeing a long lost friend for the first time in a long time. Then you glanced at the person next to her. He was tall with short wavy blonde hair, sharp features, and blue eyes. Words echoed in your mind. Words that felt like they were spoken to you before even though you had only known him in your dreams.

_ “There is nothing about you that is a mistake. You were made for me. We were made for each other. You’re going to be very well taken care of from here on out.” _

A lump formed in your throat and you immediately got the feeling that this young man who stood before you  was everything you ever needed. Everything you ever ached for. Everything you had ever been waiting for. Your eyes burned slightly and before you knew it, warm tears were sliding down your cheeks. His brows furrowed as he reached out to you with both his hands and gently framed your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Michael...” you sobbed. You didn’t know why you knew his name. It was as if it were somewhere deep inside of you this whole time. His lips curled upon hearing you say it. “It’s alright, Y/N,” he said gently as he pulled you into his arms, “I’m here now...everything will be okay.”

Everyone but Mallory looked at one another dumbfounded, but to you, they weren’t even there. The whole world disappeared, and all that remained was you, Michael, and that pleasant buzzing sensation that came from his warm embrace as you came undone with sobs of joy, staining his shirt with your tears, as you held him tightly, afraid he might disappear.


End file.
